


One Day At A Time

by emeraldsword



Category: Red Dwarf
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-03-20
Updated: 2007-03-20
Packaged: 2018-01-06 12:43:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1106962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emeraldsword/pseuds/emeraldsword
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Holly likes to keep an eye on things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Day At A Time

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Light another cigarette.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Light another cigarette.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Try to blow a smoke ring.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Light another cigarette.

 

“Lister?” Rimmer's voice cut through the haze.

“Yeah?”

“What are you doing?” Rimmer's voice is inquisitive, sarcastic.

“What does it look like I'm doing?” Lister exhales a cloud of smoke up towards the ceiling.

“Creating a health hazard. There are other people on this ship too, you know.”

Lister raises his head to glare at him.

“Yeah, and you’re dead. Your health isn't an issue.” He lets his head thunk down on the deck, which hurts more than he intends it to, and pointedly lights another cigarette.

“I still need to see, Lister, and your cloud of gas is threatening to overwhelm the whole of C deck.”

“Then go to D deck,” Lister tells him. “We’ve got a ship the size of a city between three people, you can be anywhere you want.”

“I refuse to allow myself to be driven out by your repellent habits,” Rimmer announces, stepping close enough to get into his line of sight and glaring at him.

Lister sits up and stubs out the cigarette on the floor.

“Holly, can you tell him not to do that?” Rimmer says.

“What?”

“Use the floor as an ashtray. He’s a human biohazard.”

“Sorry dudes,” Holly says, looking at them both benignly. “It’s my day off.” Rimmer swells up to twice his usual size.

“Day off? You don’t have days off, you’re a computer!”

“That’s discriminatory!” Holly informs him. “I am entitled to downtime, everyone has needs.”

“You had 3 millions years of it!” Rimmer tells him. “How can you possibly think you’re entitled to any more?”

“Hol, who’s flying the ship?” Lister asks. He has sat up now, the cigarette, unheeded, is smouldering on the floor.

"It's on the autopilot,” Holly tells them.

"We don't have an autopilot,” Rimmer says.

"I told the Cat to keep an eye on things,” says Holly, supremely unconcerned.

“You did WHAT?!!” both men scream in unison, and then they are both off and running up to the drive room. Holly nods to himself vaguely, watching as the scutters he had positioned around the corner rush in, taking care of the still-smouldering cigarette and beginning to restore the room to some sort of order. He waits for a while, making a couple of slight course alterations, giving them plenty of time to reach the drive room, or to get distracted by something else along the way. Probably by the Cat, who is, in fact, making a waterfall out of the main stairs.

Crisis averted.


End file.
